


Thief

by lusteralliance (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Gen, hey listen...., i love ashe and that's the tea, i think if i had to choose any 3h character id relate to him the most, i wrote this a while ago and it was a lot longer but i trimmed it and here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lusteralliance
Summary: Every thief's first crime is the toughest.





	Thief

**Author's Note:**

> ashe ily

“Hey! Stop right there!”

Ashe’s heart was racing as he scrambled down the alley, the loaf of bread stuffed up his shirt not helping to quell the tightness in his chest as he fled the market. He chanced a look behind him and nearly died on the spot—the guards were no more than a yard away from him, and there was only rage in their eyes.

People were peeking out of windows, gasping when Ashe sprinted past, grabbing at the thin air where he had been heartbeats before as he ran for his life, and for his family’s. Hot jolts of pain stung the soles of his feet with every leap he took, the gravel digging into his bare feet as he weaved through crowds and between stands and under carts.

It felt like an eternity before another voice strained with exhaustion cried over the commotion, “It’s one loaf of bread! She’ll bake another!” and the chasing footsteps behind Ashe ceased into nothing in the darkness. Ashe was barely breathing as he stumbled into a shaded alcove at the edge of the village, and he collapsed against the wall, grabbing and squeezing a handful of his shirt as his lungs tried desperately to untangle themselves from one another. The boy felt like his insides were scrambled, as if he had been grabbed and shaken and his tendons and ligaments forgot how to hold him together.

He coughed and kicked at the ground in pain when his breaths stung his lungs, tears springing to his eyes. Ashe had never run so fast in his entire life. He'd never been so terrified. He looked about in the shade of the stone wall he hid behind, searching for the door to his home as he picked the gravel and debris out from the bloody soles of his feet.

Ashe’s heels burned, and he limped over to the small wooden door that seemed to be painted onto the wall. He wheezed for breath a little more, then held it and knocked, trembling as he took his loaf of bread out from inside his shirt and held it against his chest. He heard tiny footsteps, and then a creaking as the door opened.

His little sister looked up at him, then down at the bread, and her pretty green eyes grew wide as she gasped with delight.

“Mama! Papa! Look! Ashe has bread!”

Ashe’s heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He could barely stand. And when his mother peeked out from behind the door, soot from the fire smudged on her cheek, she gasped with horror and pulled Ashe into her arms.

“Ashe! Where in the world did you get that?”

“Stole it,” Ashe whispered quietly into her chest. His father started to yell, and he yanked his ear, just once. Then, they all shared the meal.

Ashe received a middle slice, and his mother helped to wash and treat the wounds on his feet after he’d eaten. Wrapped in a cozy blanket by the fire, Ashe smiled at his family, his little brother and his little sister well-fed, his mother and father glad to see their children eating, too. When his parents made him promise not to pull any more stunts like this, Ashe promised. His siblings hugged him, then fell asleep in his lap, and his mother placed her arms around him, and then his father around them all. 

The stinging in the beds of Ashe’s feet was barely a memory anymore; he felt like he could run a mile in fire if it meant getting to see his family this happy one more time.

He’d do this again. He’d do it until he couldn’t, and even then, he’d try.


End file.
